“Would you like to go to the top of the Empire State Building?”
“No, I’m afraid of heights.”
I wasn’t always. I seem to have become afraid of anything that is higher than my bed or a step ladder in the kitchen. I’m fairly okay on an extension ladder trying to lop off a dead limb on a tree or to inspect the roof. Anything much higher and I run the risk of expelling myself to tempt death – the thought occurs.
What’s so fascinating about death?
It’s well worth considering and I think that because I have considered it quite well that the thought of something as tiny as an unseeable particle of some matter that is thought to be devastating can’t seem to touch my psyche. I thought about death so much for so long before March 13, 2020 that I was relieved when an invader was thought to have been discovered that could knock out half the population in a matter of weeks. It brought me back to life.
It’s been almost a year now.
Everyone is still afraid of death. I think everyone just likes being afraid. It’s primal. It’s easy. It’s base to be afraid.
How many movies are horror?
And everyone likes obeying.
Except me. And one or two or three other people that I know.
I wanted more room for crafting and my mattress was getting old and was too big. I tore it apart for its parts before I had anything else to sleep on and have been suffering ever since.
I got a $7 blow up mattress. I’m in heaven. It’s just the right height now to not be tempted to expel myself and I can stand up without having to bend my knees too much.
I’m happy to be alive now. And, I’m not too afraid of death. I’d still like to live to be 108 – but who am I to say.
Funny what $7 can do to make me happy as I sit here atop it typing.